


Drugs Not Hugs

by trash_freak



Series: RickMorty Trash Pile [13]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Drug Abuse, M/M, Rough Sex, Verbal Abuse, all the abuse, this is the worst thing I have ever written, tread lightly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-13 12:14:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11184903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trash_freak/pseuds/trash_freak
Summary: Rick takes.





	Drugs Not Hugs

They’re alone in the house, Jerry and Beth away at couples counselling, Summer staying at her boyfriend’s with a departing promise to not get pregnant thrown over her shoulder.

It’s warm, enclosed in Rick’s tiny bedroom, pressed up against Rick’s side, sticky with sweat and come. Morty is panting still; breathless in the close, stuffy heat, and he blows out a long sigh of relief when Rick shifts away and up off the bed.

“Wait here,” Rick mumbles as he staggers off, stark naked, drunk and high; on what, Morty doesn’t care to know.

He’d been like that already when Morty found him, and his vacant eyes and clumsy words had made Morty almost want to try running away. Rick is always a little… _rougher_ , like this. Sometimes impatient and selfish, surly; sometimes passionate and giddy and hasty. Big hands holding Morty still, voice slurring, mouth too wet.

It often isn’t something Morty would describe as pleasant when Rick’s like this.

When Rick returns, glass bottles clinking together in one hand, the other clawing at his scalp compulsively, Morty can see Rick’s half hard despite the fact his come hasn’t even dried yet.

Must be the drugs, Morty thinks with an uneasy commotion in his stomach.

There’s a slight breeze coming from the half-open bedroom door, and when Rick doesn’t shut it behind him Morty feels an irrational fear of being caught. They’re alone, he tells himself, but the fear remains.

He’s just as to blame in all this as Rick is, he knows. He keeps letting it happen, keeps not telling Rick to stop. Keeps _asking_ for it. And if anyone were to find out… Rick would leave. Rick would leave Morty here, in this dull and dreary dimension, trapped forever.

“Why the- the looooong face, M- _urgh_ -M-Morty?” Rick asks, gruff voice scattering Morty’s thoughts like startled pigeons. Rick jostles the bed as he crawls back in beside Morty and hands Morty a cold beer.

They’re both propped up against the wall, half a foot between them, Rick slumped back casual and Morty curled up tight. Rick doesn’t crowd back into Morty’s space and the breeze quickly turns into a chill. Morty wants to cover himself but the blanket is crumpled on the floor and he doesn’t much want to stop hugging his knees.

“Uhhh, no, no reason, nothing, Rick,” Morty replies after maybe too long of a pause. 

_Just thinking about how long it’ll be before we crash and burn._

“What-whatever, Morty, if you wanna, wanna keep all your shit- all your fucking worry-worting to yourself, Morty, th-tha-that’s more’n fine w _URGH_ -wi- _hic_ me, Morty.”

Morty’s stomach turns as he watches Rick chug at a fresh bottle of whisky, drool and alcohol slopping down the side of his mouth. All of the tension that was temporarily forgotten moments ago is steadily creeping back in, each burp and hiccup and drunken murmur making Morty’s muscles tighten more and more.

“For fu-uck sake, Morty, fuckin- will you just- w-will you relax for one damn minute, we, we’re, I could fucking blow you in the kitchen right now if you wanted and you’re sat there like you’re on your fucking deathbed.” Rick takes another long pull at his whiskey, then eyes Morty sternly. “Drink your goddamn beer, Morty.”

Morty doesn’t want beer. He doesn’t want to get drunk, ever, not in his entire life.

Morty drinks his beer, just a mouthful – coughs a little at how bad it tastes, face wrinkled up in displeasure. 

“Fucking weak ass little bitch,” Rick snorts, spraying spittle and wiping his mouth lazily with the back of his hand.

Morty doesn’t want to be here, doesn’t want to sit in sweat-damp sheets listening to a mean old man’s drunken insults. He pushes himself up to stand by the bed, legs shaky with nerves and anger, and slams the beer bottle down on the bedside table.

He feels exposed, covered with nothing but goosebumps as he’s embraced by cool air on bare, sweat-wet skin, and he has to fight tooth and nail not to hide away from Rick’s critical stare.

“You- y-y-y-you know what, Rick? I don’t- don’t have to sit here and listen to your _shit._ Come a-a-a-a-- come and find me when you’re sober.”

Morty’s fists are clenched, hands shaking as Rick rolls his eyes.

“Aw, Morty, don’t be such a fuckin- so sensitive, come on,” Rick says as Morty struggles to put his boxers on, not wanting to sit back down on Rick’s bed after his outburst. “Fuck, y-you’re- you’re too fucking cute, just look at you.”

“Sh-sh-shut up,” Morty attempts to say, but Rick’s chuckling, so fond, and Morty’s trying so hard to stay mad but his mouth is twitching up at the edges. “Sh-shut up, Rick,” Morty says, voice shaking with reluctant amusement.

“Come here, baby, please?” Rick says with a smile and an outstretched hand, his eyebrows tilted like he’s sorry, his voice all soft, and Morty wavers.

Rick looks playful, eyes wide and dark, twinkling with amusement, his fingers making little grabby motions in Morty’s direction, and Morty feels his irritation falter and fall away, his shoulders slumping in defeated affection.

Morty lets himself be pulled back into the dirty sheets, into Rick’s dirty lap, Rick’s dirty hands wandering from his ass up his back, firm and confident.

Rick presses light, quick kisses across Morty’s face and neck, clumsy and wet and sweet, breath hot against Morty’s already too-warm skin as he mutters, “I’m sorry, Morty, you’re, you’re so patient with me, I-I know I’m a f- I know I’m fucked up, Morty, don’t deserve you.”

It’d be nice, if not for the too-tight grip Rick has at the back of Morty’s neck, not knowing his own strength with the numbness in his hands.

Morty’s riding a dangerous line, here, and he knows Rick wouldn’t _mean_ to hurt him, but he _could,_ easy. Not just physically.

The kisses become bites, gentle at first and then harder, and Morty lets himself go limp and loose. Fighting Rick off now after he’s just gone willingly back to him would be contradictory behaviour. Still, when Rick starts pulling Morty’s boxers back down, Morty pushes at Rick’s chest, not ready to go again so soon, still tender from the first round.

Morty’s back hits the lumpy mattress with a _‘thump’._

“You’re giving out a lotta m- _uuuh_ -ixed signals here, Morty,” Rick growls into the thin skin at Morty’s throat, sounding impatient, pressing himself down heavy on top of Morty, forcing Morty’s knees apart with his own.

Morty’s breathing too hard, dizzy with adrenaline and anxiety, but his dick is getting hard, the pressure and heat and friction of Rick rubbing up against him making sparks shoot through Morty’s reluctant body.

Rick’s different when he’s like this, but he’s still _Rick,_ and Morty still…

Rick’s hands shove down the back of Morty’s boxers, making the elastic dig into Morty’s hips uncomfortably, demanding as he kneads the muscle of Morty’s ass. He pushes two fingers inside Morty’s still loose hole, hasty, sucking what’s sure to be a nasty bruise at the side of Morty’s neck, and Morty squeaks, moans, overwhelmed.

“Rick,” Morty says in complaint, and he wants to say ‘stop’, but he doesn’t.

Rick’s going too hard, putting bruises on top of the dark smudges he’s already painted on Morty’s skin today. Morty shoves at Rick’s shoulders, knowing he shouldn’t, and Rick moves back about as much as a brick wall would.

Rick bites down hard, pushes a third finger inside, a hard, punishing jab, chest vibrating in an angry rumble.

“Make up your- your _damn mind,_ Morty,” Rick says, harsh and frustrated, holding Morty still with a tight hand in his hair as he fingers Morty too hard, makes Morty’s dick twitch and leak with it.

“Don’t- d-don’t worry baby, I’ll, I’ll help you figure out what you want.” He presses his mouth close to Morty’s ear, pushes a wet tongue inside before whispering, “Trust your granddaddy Rick, I’ll show you what you want.”

Morty wriggles, gasps at the way it makes Rick’s fingers feel inside him, and he’s tugging at the hair at the back of Rick’s neck, grasping with desperate fingers and asking himself if it’s to pull Rick away or to pull him closer. Either way it’d be like trying to wrangle a hurricane.

“You- heh- you know what I w-want, Rick?” Morty asks, as mocking and doubtful as he can with the way his voice is trembling.

Rick’s hand grips harder at Morty’s hair for a second before skipping clumsily down Morty’s almost-naked body to grab at the back of Morty’s thigh. Morty lets his legs fall wider, lets himself feel the sting of Rick’s finger’s inside of him, the bite of fingertips at the inside of his thigh, pressing into already sore flesh.

Morty doesn’t know what the noise he makes means, whether it’s displeasure or complaint or a plea for harder, for _more._

Rick jabs at Morty’s prostate, makes Morty _cry,_ makes Morty’s whole body flinch and tighten, and the way Rick groans at the grip around his fingers sends a hot thrill straight to Morty’s dick.

“I know exactly what- ugh, _fuck_ \- exactly what you want, baby boy, oh god, _yeah,_ take. It. You. Little. Slut,” Rick groans, pushing his fingers in hard with every word, Morty’s body getting tighter with every thrust, his voice creeping up into a thin wail.

“You want me to take what I want, Morty, don’t you; want me tuhhh _want you._ ” He yanks Morty’s leg up higher, pulls Morty’s boxers down to just under the curve of his ass cheeks, whispers hot right into Morty’s ear, “Want to play hard to get, you little tease?”

A sick cold rush knocks the wind out of Morty and he gets so tense so sudden that it hurts, sharp spike of pain right through his middle.

“Don’t call me that,” he says in a wheeze. Rick rips his fingers from inside Morty and is flipping him over in a rush, fumbling, impaired from drugs and booze and greedy lust. “Rick-!”

Morty’s voice is smothered when Rick pushes him face down into the pillow.

“I’ll call you what I w-want, you little bitch,” Rick says, plastering himself to Morty’s back and letting go of the back of Morty’s head to grip too tight at the inside of both of Morty’s thighs, spreading him open, pushing in too fast. Morty turns his scrunched-up face to the side so he can breathe through it easier, and just when he’s starting to think it might be too much, he feels a calm settle over him, dulling the world.

Morty’s whole body goes slack, and he hears Rick choke out a groan behind him, hears him talking.

“You take it so damn good, baby, fit so perfect around me, such a good boy.”

Morty hates the way Rick’s voice is smudged and muddled with intoxication. He feels disconnected, not pushing back into Rick or trying to get away, just accepting the way Rick’s breaking Morty’s body open like he owns it.

It’s an easy glide, then, a steady slide down into a mindless buzz: full, empty, full. Getting lost in the way it feels like Rick’s pushing and pulling at his insides, reaching in and stamping his name on all of Morty’s hidden parts.

Leaving Morty messy and lived-in.

**Author's Note:**

> so, remember i said a while back  
> that i had written something terrible?  
> well. [LOUD NERVOUS LAUGHTER]
> 
> i was gonna hold off on this a little bit longer but  
> having thought about it, i think it's now or never!  
> i'll never get past this if i don't post it now.  
> it's been fucking haunting me.
> 
> so. you're welcome!! <3
> 
> (god, what have i created here.  
> i'm sorry you guys.  
> when rick called morty a tease,  
> i physically gasped  
> and nearly took it back  
> but the sweet, sweet angst  
> it called to me)
> 
>  **edit:** you guys!!! 97moreyearsmorty drew this chapter over on their tumblr and i am over the moon with how beautiful and harrowing it is! ao3 doesn't seem to want me to link it so - https://trash-freak.tumblr.com/post/162353215684/98moreyearsmorty-97moreyearsmorty-it-took-me


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